Rain Makes It Better
by AndreaTaylor
Summary: Harry is sick of a cold and his life.


Everything was empty. Leaf less trees swayed in the wind. Storm clouds and a heavy rain fell from the sky. The students of Hogwarts stayed inside, enjoying the feeling of cuddling up next to a friend. Games of exploding snap could be heard echoing through the walls. Roars of laughter accompanied those games.

Harry Potter was not inside. He was not joining in on the fun and games. Instead, he was sitting right outside the castle doors. He was wearing a warm coat. A blanket was wrapped around his shoulders, but he still shivered. Harry stared at the wet stone in front of the doors. He had come to a huge realisation. One that he should have sat and thought about much earlier.

Harry did not have any type of family.

Sure, he had the Weasleys. Sometimes, he felt that he was intruding. There were a lot of them. One more would make the others feel left out or worse, forgotten. Harry remembered the feeling of being left out. He recalled the days of primary school where he was completely isolated. The other kids leaving him because of Dudley's shouts of Harry's "freakishness."

Harry thought back to the family issue. He did not have parents or siblings. Holding his hand out, he let the rain touch him. He wanted to feel something besides this harsh sorrow. It physically hurt. His chest clenched and his mouth felt dry. Harry's breaths came out hard. His hands moved up and fisted his hair.

He needed to feel something.

Harry let go of his hair and reached into a pocket on his coat. He pulled out a photo of his parents and Sirius. The people who risked everything for him. He remembered Sirius falling through the veil. He had the briefest memory of his mother's screams. There was not a final memory of his dad.

The rain fell harder. Harry felt a prickle of hail across his face, cutting into his skin. He embraced the feeling. He placed the photo back into his pocket. Thinking about the important people he had lost was excruciating.

He stood up. Pushing his coat off his shoulders, he ran. Harry dashed through the wet grass soaking his shoes. Even though he was cold, he continued to run. His glasses soon became covered in water droplets hiding his vision. Harry did not care, he could get away if he ran fast enough.

The world turned black and he knew that it was over. He was not dying, but merely going back to the world before. The world of the Boy Who Lived. The bad one.

Harry woke up in the hospital wing. This was not unusual, but this time it would be different. He tried to sit up, but was blocked by a cocoon of blankets. He was too sore to try again. It was not worth it.

Opening his eyes, he looked around. The walls were still a sombre white and sun was still too bright. Then, he looked to the people. Madame Pomphrey's mouth was moving, but Harry could not hear her. He was unconcerned. Hermione was crying and clutching his hand. That was beginning to hurt. Ron was not crying, but he was nervous. He held Hermione's other hand. They both shook.

Next, he saw the last person he wanted to see in this state. The last person he wanted to see him down and vulnerable.

Draco Malfoy.

Draco was worried and holding Harry's other hand, rubbing his thumb over Harry's palm. This felt good.

Harry tried to pull the hand Hermione was holding out of its grip. She immediately let go and began talking. Her expression made it seem like she was accusing him of staying in the rain. That was not his fault. Everything was grey. The world was grey, black, and white. The greyness had seeped in too far and scared him. He had to get out of there.

He felt a poke to his shoulder. Madame Pomphrey was poking him, looking annoyed. She said something and he could barely read her lips.

'Are you even listening?' She had said. Harry turned towards the table that was usually at the patient's bed side. He found a marker and picked it up.

On his arm, he wrote, 'I can't hear anything.' He faced his arm toward her and she looked confused. Pomphrey shooed everyone else out and began an examination. No one fought to stay.

After the examination, Harry's head felt fuzzy. He thought it was okay. He was not back to being the Boy Who Lived just yet. The world went black once again.

He came back to consciousness in the Gryffindor dorm. His glasses were on his face. He was still cold. A note was on his pillow next to him.

'Your hearing should be good. Stay in bed and rest for the day. –Madame Pomphrey'

Harry almost smiled. He was still too dreary to do that. At least, he was not the Boy Who Lived yet. He still had time to himself. This was usually a luxury he did not receive.

His hands reached for the ceiling. His mind went to the sky. He was jealous of the birds that could be free. They did not have the curse of the Boy Who Lived. Ron walked into the room.

He came back from the sky and lowered his arms. He stared at Ron, attempting to make his uncomfortable enough to leave.

Ron held out his hand, in it was a note. There were too many notes today.

Harry took the note and read it.

'Harry-

I hope you aren't feeling down tomorrow. I have an exciting day planned. If you are still feeling bad, then that's okay. We'll make it better.

-Draco'

Forbidden words: sad/sadness


End file.
